Twisted Ideologies
by Ladiladida
Summary: Harley Quinn fell into a 'mad love; with a man without a plan but she awakens in a room with no recollection of how she got there. Revived by the friend she needed she soon attracts the dangerous interest Mr J's opposite. As Gotham is set to fall, Harley's deranged view is challenged and chaos collides with order. Post TDK and containing AU TDKR. NOT a love story!
1. Chapter 1

_**A.N Hello, this is an alternate take on TDKR I suppose but I'm not saying all events will be gospel. I was inspired to do this fic after discussing with a friend what would occur if Nolan's universe of The Joker and Bane were actually to come into contact with each other, plus I wanted to throw in one of my favourite characters from the comics. Basically this ramble is a disclaimer that this is AU and that I hope you enjoy it. Please review if you can, it's always good to know what people think.**_

**Prologue**

Everything before her was like looking at the world through a diamond, shining and distorted. The light was bright, blindingly bright, so much so that her eyes stung as she tried to grow accustomed to it. She moved her head from side to side, trying hard to focus, some moments there seemed to be a haziness around all the objects, then a second later she seemed to see double. There was a noise to the side of her, echoey and distant and what could she feel… pain? No. Stiffness, she was stiff and achey like she'd been left out overnight in the cold. Was the room warm? Yes. Oh how she wished she could focus better. She looked to the noise and saw a blurred shape, a person with their back to her. The person… a woman looked like she was on fire, squinting hard and focusing her gaze her sight started to rectify itself and she saw it was not fire but a shock of long, red curls.

"Where am I?" She croaked, her throat dry and her jaw stiff. The figure turned to reveal a beautiful woman, she wore some sort of green dress and her hands were covered to the elbow in violet coloured gloves. The woman moved nearer the bed and leant over, examining her.

"Harley, how are you feeling?" The woman asked, her voice a deep, velvety tone tinged with concern. Harley found something reassuring in this voice, though she panicked about her physical state, the woman did not seem a threat.

"Am I in hospital?"

"You're recovering from an accident; you've been unconscious for five weeks." The woman explained raising Harley's arm and checking her pulse. "Your heart's racing, try sitting up."

Harley did as she was bid and looking around the plain white room everything seemed a lot clearer, the light was less harsh to her fragile eyes and a few swallows relaxed her throat. Looking down she beheld she was in a white night dress and something about it seemed unnatural to her, the colour white… she didn't like it.

"How… how did you find me?"

"By accident… providence as it turned out. Your clothes are over there, can you not remember?"

"Can I walk?" Harley babbled, focusing on how deep the woman's lips were, were they crimson or purple? The woman noticed her gaze and she brushed some of her fiery hair from her forehead. "You're very beautiful."

"Thank you. My name is Pamela." She replied, taking hold of Harley's hand. "Let's see if you can stand. You had a fractured collar bone and a broken leg… you were half dead when I found you."

Harley did not expect to sit up with such ease, her legs dangled off the bed freely and she felt no pain. She looked about herself, confused, stretching out her arms.

"I'm not broken anymore."

"I fixed you."

"How?"

"I'll explain that some other time." Pamela said gently and she walked over to a nearby chair where a pile of what looked like rags lay. Cautiously Pamela brought them over to Harley and placed them on her lap. On first look Harley noticed bright red and black but then her eye was caught by another red, much deeper and its pattern was nothing linear, it was spattered about. Holding up the outfit in front of her she saw tears in the sleeve and across the abdomen. The material unfolded and hung right to the floor, it was some kind of tight fitting cat suit, half black, half red.

"I remember this, this feels like me." Harley said happily, hugging the outfit to her and inhaling, she could smell the blood on the fabric. Something about this familiar scent brought a manic feeling of elation in Harley's bones, it felt like home. As she looked back to Pamela she saw the beautiful creature held something else out to her, Harley took the small object into her hand and stared at it.

"You were clutching this tight in your hand, even unconscious it was hard to get it out of your grasp." Pamela explained carefully. Harley looked at it hard, it was a Joker card that was quite dog eared and had a few drops of blood on it. All this was nothing to Harley for she focused on the manic face of the Joker on the card and saw that around it, little love hearts were drawn.

Suddenly a sweep of sound seem to hit her like a wave and she jerked, it was the sound of laughter, shrill but not her own, yet it sounded familiar. It hurt her, it hurt her in her head and she dropped the card and clothes and they slid from her lap to the floor. Harley threw her hands over her ears and bent her head forward crying out, the peel of laughter continued. It sounded insane, like the laughter of some unrestrained tormenter, yet somehow it was as familiar to her as the scent of her own blood. Then another sound, a crack and the sound of something brittle shattering. Harley's head was held up by Pamela who held it in both hands searching her face, but Harley could not see her, her sight was blocked out by a colour… purple. Then all went black.

When light hurt her eyes again, it seemed identical to before; as her pupils searched wildly to focus she saw the flamed haired Pamela stood by her bed. Giving herself time to focus, Harley inhaled deeply and as her body calmed her sight returned. Pamela had Harley's left arm straight and was holding an injection containing a greeny brown serum in her hand. Harley jerked her arm a little out of reflex yet something about the way Pamela looked at her, such deep concern helped her relax again.

"This will make you stronger."

"How do you know?" Harley asked.

"I've been giving you it for some time; it's what has helped your bones heal so fast. Soon you will be better than your old self." Pamela replied with a smile, it seemed to have a twinge of cockiness in its curve that warmed Harley to her protector even more. Without protest she allowed Pamela to inject the serum into her arm and within a few second she felt a fizzing sensation all over her body.

"Why are you doing this?" Harley asked. "You don't know me."

"I knew who you were the moment I found you." She replied, dropping the syringe into a bin and walking towards the door. She reached out to flick the light switch. "You need to sleep again, its best."

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

"Always."

Harley closed her eyes and she heard the click of the light switch, all was black but then something crawled from the back of her mind and she called out.

"Mr J?"

There was no answer, Pamela was gone or had she heard she did not reply. A familiar drowsiness came over Harley again and soon she slumbered. If Harley dreamt she could not remember, the serum seemed to even shut out dreams and nightmares and when she awoke again she felt refreshed as though she had never had an accident.

Sitting up she looked around, the room was dark and she sensed she was alone. Climbing out of bed she fumbled to the door and found the light switch, the harsh light startling her but giving no pain. Looking around the room she saw a mirror in the far corner and something in Harley felt nervous about beholding her own face. As she approached she looked at the floor and stood a good, long moment before daring to raise her eyes. What a sight she beheld, it unsettled her immensely.

Her skin was peachy fresh and glowing, her eyes wide and bright and her hair seemed to have such a golden sheen to it that she wanted to be sick. It didn't seem right; it was as though she were staring at a stranger. Even her facial expression seemed alien to her, there was no confidence in it, no surety. Is this what Pamela had meant by 'better than your old self'? Harley panicked, her hands began to shake and she looked about her frightfully. Soon she saw a small cabinet and she stumbled towards it, her eyes pricking at her with frustrated tears. There were bottles of this and that which she threw idly in temper until at last she stumbled on something that would help. Talc. Unable to help it, Harley let out an unbridled chuckle that sounded like music to her own ears.

When Harley Quinn beheld her dry, white face in the mirror she felt slightly appeased, indeed she quite liked how bright and keen her eyes looked set in such a pallid frame. Her mind thought back to Pamela with those deep crimson lips and she despaired at her own rosy pink ones. Something in her laughed again, a little harder this time and her eyes turned back to the bin that she had seen Pamela throw the syringe in. Fishing it out she brought it to the mirror, using the needle end she pricked her own finger and she squeezed out a large drop of blood. Slowly she ran it over her own lips, not caring if she went slightly over. Looking at herself again she was temporarily satisfied, she could do more later.

Wandering from the room with neither pain nor stiffness, Harley felt a new sense of possibility and somehow felt her old self. She could not remember how she came to be here but there was such a buzz of excitement in her stomach and her mind raced with numerous thoughts. Walking down the corridor she slowly opened the door revealing a large room, so large it seemed almost like a warehouse.

The place was filled with sunlight, its glass ceiling allowing all the warm rays of daylight to dance on the ground below. But it was not the sun which amazed Harley, it was the rows and rows of plants of all kinds stretching up their arms towards the warm rays. There were buds and leaves of every colour, strong vines that twisted round beams. Looking up Harley could see there was some kind of gallery above but the plants blocked a lot of her view, indeed she could not see the bottom of the room. It was a spectacular sight and the aroma was breath taking, she could not identify one plant known to her. Just who was this Pamela?

Then as she stood in awe she heard voices echoing from down the room, one of them was a feminine velvet tone that she knew to be Pamela's. The voices were clear but the words were not and Harley decided to follow the sound to find their origin. She was halfway down one of the alleys formed by arching plantlife when a large purple bud busting with deep, red seeds caught her eye. Hypnotically she moved towards it, unable to stop herself, every sense seemed to fail in all but focus of it and she walked so blind she did not see the large root that arched not far in front.

Harley's fall felt like slow motion, her eyes still mesmerised by the bud, it was only when a strong grip was felt on her arm that the spell was broken. Suddenly everything seemed to move at lightning speed and she felt herself flung round, her throat gripped in an agonizing vice grip and she was lifted from the floor into the blinding sunlight. Her breath could barely pass through her wind pipe and she started to kick and struggled against that which held her, but the grip only intensified and she felt herself jerked forwards.

With the sun no longer blinding her, blocked as it was by the large shape in front, Harley's eyes focused on her assailant. What she beheld made her cease to struggle as she gazed at the large, dominating form of a man who's thick, muscular arm held her above him with seemingly no effort. But her eyes travelled up the arm to the face and she could not help but give a croak of a cry. The head was large like the body, and fastened over it was a jet black mask. She could hear the rasping breath emitting from his huge chest and she willed herself to seem less afraid, but it was hard.

Rushed footsteps sounded behind her as the giant of a man looked upon her, the meaning in his eyes vowing not to be read.

"Don't hurt her!" Pamela cried and Harley saw her friends arm rest gently on the free one of her attacker. The man turned his head and looked from Pamela's hand up to her face and Harley saw how she cautiously withdrew it and let it fall limply at her side.

"Well then Ivy…" he said, his voice a deep, distorted boom as he lowered Harley to the ground, though his hand remained about her throat. "Introduce us."

"Harley… this is Bane… he's been looking for you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

Bane looked her up and down as Harley could only stand there helpless, barely resting on her feet.

"So you are Miss Quinn, formerly the revered psychiatrist Harleen Quinzel." He said without emotion, speaking as though aloud to himself rather than herself or Pamela. "Curious."

His last word did not please Harley and she struggled a little, bringing her hands to circle his wrist, her fingers only just long enough.

"Is there something you hope to achieve Miss Quinn?" He asked looking at her hands; he tugged her slightly further forward. "Just what have you done to your face?"

"I could… ask you the… same thing." She said, trying to fill her lungs with enough breath to allow her steady speech, this man could snap her in two easily but as long as she could speak she was damn well sure it would be clear. Bane inhaled deeply, was it in the manner of a laugh or with offence she could not tell. Turning his head Bane addressed Pamela, ignoring Harley like she was some kind of child or animal whose opinion need not be considered.

"I seem to have come here for nothing, she is of no use." Unceremoniously, Bane let Harley go, pushing her from him as though repulsed and he fully turned to Pamela. "This however, is an impressive achievement. Enjoy it while you can, Ivy."

"What exactly does that mean?" Pamela asked, her eyes narrowing and her cheeks flushing.

"None of your concern."

His arrogance deriving from his massive strength irritated Harley beyond rationality and looking about her she saw his accomplices were down one end of the hothouse. The best thing she felt was to aim for the gallery and try and find an exit from there, she needed answers and the person to give her them was not here.

Bane turned like lightening when she started to run and his gaze followed her as she took an instinctive leap upon a vine and surprised even herself when she was able to dexterously clamber up it with quick speed. She heard running footsteps and shouting but neither the voice of Bane nor Pamela joined the throng. She did not look down but running towards one end of the gallery she was soon confronted by a thug clad in brown and black. She turned and sprung on her heel, dealing a high kick blow under his chin knocking him backwards, yet he didn't fall. It took two more kicks to the stomach and chest to bring him down but two men soon followed behind. The other end of the gallery was clear and turning she started to run that way. But again that giant hand appeared from nowhere and grabbed her by the hair, twisting her painfully round, her face brought into close contact with his. She levelled kicks and punches where she could but the hold on her hair became so intense she was sure he could rip her scalp from her skull. He caught one wrist in his other massive paw like hand and her assault was hindered.

"Where did you think you could run to Miss Quinn?" He asked his pitch slightly higher for he seemed genuinely curious. "Do you even know who you would run too?"

"Yes." She hissed.

"I can't hear you Miss Quinn."

"Yes…." She said and spat at his face whilst her free hand clawed across the flesh of his shoulder, piercing skin though nothing registered on Bane's face. Instead his hand let go of her wrist and levelled a blow across her cheek. His grasp held her in place as he did so but the overwhelming throbbing in her face threw all her senses off balance for a moment. Somehow she knew that was a soft blow, it was making a point, it was a warning shot.

"Who will you run too?" He spoke again.

"Mr J."

"Ah. The infamous Joker, the man you broke out of Arkham and who is doing his level best to be the thorn in Gotham's side."

Harley said nothing, Bane let her go and she stood limply still recovering from his blow, cupping her cheek which now stung with hot inflammation.

"Do you know where to find him?"

"No, but I will."

"And why is that?"

"Because… I need too."

Pamela appeared on the gallery and came up to them; she turned Harley's face towards her with her finger and saw the bruise appearing there.

"I do acknowledge Pamela, you have done well here, she is more able than I first imagined." Bane said but then turning his attention back to Harley he stepped in close, placing his giant hand gently on her shoulder. The touch made her want to shrink back but that would show fear and she was allowing him no more power than he currently owned.

"Have you considered Miss Quinn that this man may not want you to find him?"

"I will find him either way. It is my intention too."

"What do you remember Harley?" Pamela asked.

"Everything… I think… except how I came to be here."

"That is the most important part for it renders your previous dealings with The Joker immaterial."

"What, if anything do you know about Mr J?" Harley snapped, turning away from him and grasping the railings along the gallery. "He needs me, he always needs me."

"Is that why he threw you out of a forth storey window and left you for dead?" Bane said sarcastically, jerking her back towards him with his hand. "And since then he has taken no pains to find you, even I knew where to find you and until yesterday I did not know you existed. Does that strike you as someone who is needed? Hanging on the coat tails of such a man as he?"

Harley faced him and swallowed hard, tensing her fists to try and send all her remaining courage to her heart. She was far too angry to be thrown at Bane's words, he was trying to break her down and she would not let him. She edged up to him, her body language open and calm, she was not on the attack.

"You seem to see this as black and white, that by throwing me away he has forsaken me. But what about when he sees I have come back stronger?" She explained, daring his gaze with her big, bright eyes. "If you mean to kill me then snap my neck or let me go. You do not know us, what we are. I am he and he is mine."

Bane brought his hand up slowly and even Pamela edged a little as though ready to push Harley away from another blow. Instead he grazed the back of his fingers down the enflamed part of her cheek, the touch was so gentle, so strange in association with him that the touch did not hurt the damaged flesh at all. He looked quickly to Pamela and she nodded in agreement with Harley's words.

"He will come for her... eventually."

"You have convinced me." He said, his hand moved to the back of her neck and cradled it; he brought her forward gently and bent his head seeming to whisper in her ear. "You do not know us at all either Miss Quinn."

With that he threw her down onto the floor, the collision making her cry out and soon she heard rushing footsteps amidst Pamela's protestations to Bane. Soon she felt her hands bound behind her back and struggle and kick all she might, those thugs from earlier tied her and placed a bag over her head.

"Thank you for your cooperation Ivy."

Harley listened acutely, her hearing somewhat heightened as her sight was taken from her. Pamela's voice spoke low to Bane but she heard every word.

"Hurt her and you gain nothing, she is mad with love, she doesn't quite remember how much yet. He is rooted deep within her."

Harley felt a needle prick in her arm, and then with a sudden rush, the world went even darker.

…..

When awakening and seeing she was again in a plain, bare walled room Harley wanted to scream. As a psychiatrist she had spent her professional life walking down plain corridors and speaking to patients in plain rooms. They were bland and she hated them, she felt trapped and caged, she was Harleen Quinzel again in these rooms and that woman was a thing of the past. Inwardly she itched, burned with discomfort, the nondescript room hurt her, it hurt her mind. She moved her hands; they were bound in front of her, resting on her chest as she lay there. Using her shoulder she threw her weight forward, sitting up and she looked around her. The room was murky brown and more dimly lit than her previous lodgings and there was no window at all. All was square and simple, neither large nor small and there was only a bed and a bucket within its confines. Or was there?

She looked directly opposite and saw movement in the top corners of the facing wall, there were two cameras slowly rotating left to right. She was being watched all the time. Shuffling to the side of the bed she rested her two bare feet flat on the floor, it was a little cold but she ignored it.

Harley could not place how she knew but she sensed that she was underground; the air seemed different than even been holed up in a windowless cell in the city. An impatient, manic part of her rose within her and wanted to pace frantically, to burn off this agitation she had in her but no, she was being observed. As her periods of consciousness lengthened she begun to remember more and more of before, indeed all she could not remember was being thrown through the window, though the sound of the glass shattering haunted her like a spirit. She rubbed her fingers together on each hand to use up some energy and to give her something to do, when she felt like this she would find her tonic in Mr J. He would come to her, she never knew when but he would come and she understood then why she breathed, she never truly breathed as Harleen Quinzel. No that was speaking a strangers ideology about how life and the brain worked, she would sit and deal with the insane at Arkham trying to aid setting them straight. She didn't know how wrong she was, but he had freed her from that, he showed her there was no line, no code, no sane or insane. Freedom had given her leave to embrace herself and she had run with him.

'_Harley, Harley, Harley. Why are you stood by the window gazing out, you need to be ready when I come.'_

_She had stood by the window in her new home, a smaller, danker apartment in a less noticed part of Gotham. Her eyes had been looking out over the crumbling buildings opposite needing some injection of life. Mr J had taken her shoulders and turned her around, she saw that familiar blade in one of his hands._

'_What have I told you?' He said shaking his head, his free hand leaving her shoulder to squeeze under her cheek bones compacting her mouth, bringing it closer to his lace white, streaky face and smell his souring breath. _

'_Sit.' She had replied as best she could and the pressure on her cheeks increased. He bent his ear nearer to her mouth._

'_What?'_

'_To sit.'_

'_Until?'_

'_Until you come.'_

_His other hand that held the knife had come up to her mouth now and the other held the side of her head. She never relaxed her aching jaw, she didn't even swallow, how could she when he was so near to her. The knife pointed at the opening of her mouth was maybe only a centimetre from entering it, was she scared? She was enthralled and enamoured with lust and terror, they were one in her devotion to Mr J. To love was to be afraid._

Harley remembered every moment of this interchange with crystal clarity and all that followed, he was always right, she must always be ready. For who knew when he would arrive or how? She pressed her knees together gently and rested her bound hands upon her lap. Harley's back was straight, it must be straight, she must not show a slouch or fatigue. Looking across at the opposite wall she noticed a small crack in its surface and that was her focus point. So she sat, unmoving even when the ache set upon her, she did not waver. Minutes past but she did not care, she looked at that same point and sat in that same manner for over two hours, she would do so for as long as she was physically able. Patience paid off for those who waited. Her stomach growled with agonising hunger and her throat longed to be quenched with water but she waited on.

'_How did I do puddin'?' _She often asked and she would be delighted if he gave her that deformed, sardonic smile of his with a gleam of the eye. It was a sight that sent her into a frenzy and relieved her with a rush of such insane love that she wanted to leap into his arms and kiss him all over. But Mr J did not like that, she had learnt it the hard way, he did not like that one bit.

The door to her right swung open and in stepped a dark haired man holding a small wooden stool and a bowl of something steaming.

"You need to eat." He said plainly. "I have to feed you."

Harley did not reply but she gave a nod of the head, the man came over, placed the stool on the floor and sat before her.

"What is your name?" She asked.

"Barsad."

"Is it possible to have some water as well Barsad." She asked with a hint of sweetness without intending to beguile. "Please."

"He said eat first."

Harley Quinn did as she was bid.


End file.
